


A Rosary I Recite With Teeth

by Keriae



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: ALL THE KINKS, Aramis can't stop flirting someone stop him, Aramis is a hipster barista, F/M, Fingerfucking, Mentions of OT4, More will be added, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Pegging, Scarlett is a hottie, bc we are trash, in which a 1x1 roleplay has a coffeeshop au, mentions of OT5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keriae/pseuds/Keriae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffeeshop AU - The boys have a quaint little coffeeshop and Aramis absolutely can't get enough of their pretty new client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The coffee shop was only new, having been up and running for a matter of weeks. It was all smooth, pale wood (Aramis thought it was oak, given its variety of uses), with red brick walls and round tables. Even the bar was made of solid wood, at least twelve foot long, if not longer. To the side was a lovely little curved glass display case, where they placed freshly-baked cakes and bottles of water; Athos refused to serve anything else. Not even juices, like Oasis and Rubicon, were allowed there. Aramis was slowly working on having bottles of iced tea there, but it was going to take longer. Not that he couldn't swindle something in when Athos was away. He didn't like to be too involved with the customers, even when it was quiet - it had to be something about his past, but they had been friends for a long time, and Aramis had learnt not to press. Porthos was easier; Porthos you could talk to, and joke with, and his booming laugh only made this little coffee shop feel all the more homely. They were, after all, the only staff. There was nothing like quaint little coffee shops.

"You're daydreaming again, 'Mis." It was Porthos who had spoken, sneaking up behind Aramis and looking over his shoulder. Aramis had been busy getting all of their coffee beans ready, stocking up the shelving on the opposing wall. But he must have stopped, because Porthos wouldn't have come over otherwise - he'd have just thrown something at the back of his head and hoped it would hit its mark.

"Mmm, what?" Aramis asked, humming the words and turning his head to look over his shoulder. Porthos smelt like chocolate and spices, and Aramis could feel the heat radiating from him. "No, I just got a little distracted. Look, I'm done!" And he was up with a flourish, just as the bell over the door tinkled. There was a grin from Porthos - a lopsided grin, almost a smirk, showing just enough of his teeth that Aramis almost slapped him on the arm - and then he was gone, and Aramis was left to scramble to get behind the bar, his maroon beanie almost slipping from his head.

Once there, he was faced by a woman. A very lovely woman. Now, Aramis liked to consider himself a romantic, though Athos had a habit of calling him a philander. But he was not. He just happened to fall in love very easily, falling before he knew he had even reached the edge, and he fell hard for anyone and everyone he seemed to meet. Pushing his beanie back onto his head, he put on his most charming smile (hardly an effort, as his lips were always curved into a smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling each time) and welcomed her good morning, all the while taking in the look of her. She was tall, around three or four inches shorter than himself, with black hair carefully braided into a neat plait. It looked very soft. Her eyes were green, framed by some hair that had fallen out.

"What can I get you, ma chérie?" He asked, his voice as smooth as the coffee he served, even adding in a wink for good measure. The woman blushed, her cheeks flushing a very pretty pink, but she managed to hold his gaze and answer.

"Could I have a latte, please?" She asked, her voice stronger than he thought it would be, thought it did waver just a little bit. That might have been his endearment.

"Of course. Flavour? We do vanilla, cinnamon, chai, caramel and roasted hazelnut." He personally preferred the cinnamon, but that was because it warmed him up and he had a tendency to feel the cold, especially during the winter. It also got him into an (apparently annoying) Christmas spirit, but it was summer now and warm outside.

"Uh, vanilla please. And, um, can I have a slice of chocolate cake? It looks very nice." That it did. Porthos had just finished making it, covering it with a layer of rich chocolate ganache, and Aramis smiled as he carefully removed a slice and placed it on a plate, which was placed on a wooden serving tray. While the milk heated, he diligently prepared the cup, placing the espresso inside.

"I take it you're staying to drink this?" He asked, nodding to the laptop bag that hung from her shoulder. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Here's the wifi password," a little card was passed over to her; it would be a lie to say that he didn't let their fingers linger, "and the best seat is over there, near the window. There's also a plug socket if you need to charge anything." The poor woman looked overwhelmed by him, and Aramis turned away so she could get her thoughts straight. The milk was ready, anyway. God, he loved the smell of coffee. With that soon joining the cake, he punched the item codes into the till. "That'd be four pound fifty two, please." Some might say that their prices were a little steep, but they had to make their money somehow and Aramis though it was well worth the price. The money was passed over and the nameless woman took her things over to the table Aramis had indicated. When he went to put the milk away, Porthos had reappeared.

He didn't look impressed. Aramis feigned ignorance and chastity.

It didn't work. It never did, to be honest.

"You were giving her The Stare." He really wasn't impressed. The darker-skinned man looked altogether disappointed, as if he thought Aramis would have stopped trying to seduce the customers by now. Aramis couldn't help it, he just had to, and it wasn't like he did it on purpose. But at least the words had been quiet, as if the sound would carry across to their only customer.

"I'm going to draw on her cup next time." He said with a wide grin, white teeth on display, grabbing his sharpie from the side and twisting to serve the next customer who entered.


	2. Chapter 2

The pretty woman sat there all morning.

She was, undoubtedly, a very pretty woman. Aramis couldn't help but keep looking at her from behind the counter when he wasn't serving customers, or when he just happened to look her way. And every single time he looked, she was engrossed in whatever she was doing on her laptop, eyes trained on the screen, fingers working furiously on the keys. At one point she got up, making her way back over, and brought her plate and empty cup back. She looked very nervous to be served by him again, so he smiled at her and refrained from winking. It was quite a effort, given he wanted to make her blush again - she was terribly endearing when she did. He'd seen her flush when Porthos had gone over and asked if her coffee had gone cold.

After returning her plate, she'd refused another cup of coffee, claiming that she didn't want to overload of caffeine. So Aramis had offered her a glass of tap water - given it was free if not from a bottle - and she'd taken that instead. Sadly, he'd been unable to draw on the glass, and when he'd pulled a face, Porthos had laughed at him and assured him that there would be a time when he could. With the promise hanging in the air, Aramis had set back to work, serving customers their coffee while Porthos prepared the food. They might have been a new little shop, but they were in a prime position, just far enough away from the railway station that it wasn't too busy, but close enough to the city center they profited from people wanting a caffeine fix no matter the time of day. How Athos had afforded the place, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to ask. At least they were well on their way to making a profit.

Nevertheless, the unnamed woman stayed at her table, glued to her laptop. The clock ticked by behind him and time leaked away. Before long it was nearing lunchtime, and Aramis knew he'd have to take a break before they got too busy. The law demanded it, after all, and Athos had arrived not long ago, rolling up his shirtsleeves and getting into serving the customers too. He looked a little uncomfortable, but it would be good for him. Porthos had purposefully taken a break when their "boss" and friend arrived. Aramis had snorted at the look on Athos' face and set him to work.

But it was time for his break and so Aramis took it, washing his hands at the sink and slipping out from behind the counter. And, of course, he went over to the woman. She was the only person sat on her own and, as far as he was concerned, she looked like she needed to take a break from whatever it was she was doing. The man wasn't quiet as he walked over, but he still managed to shock her. Especially when he spoke.

"Hey." He said, and watched as she jumped, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Oh," she replied, ducking her head and looking back at her screen, "It's you. I didn't expect you to come over here."

Pulling over a chair - it scraped uncomfortably on the floor, enough to make his spine tingle unpleasantly - Aramis sat down next to her. It was probably rude, but he had fifteen minutes to kill and she looked like she needed the company. He'd thought, to begin with, she was a university student, and was doing some work while she waited for her friends, but it had been a couple of hours now and no one had come to sit with her. Surely she wasn't alone? Why would she be alone? She was very beautiful, surely she had someone coming to meet her. But when he peered at her screen and saw the multitude of tabs she had open (ranging from pages of Shakespearian poetry to emails to research on the 17th century) he decided that she must be doing work, of some sort.

So he asked.  
"What are you doing?" His tone of voice was pleasant, and yet still as smooth and suave as when he had served her earlier, and while another wink didn't make an appearance, a winning smile did. The woman smiled back at him, and the green of her eyes seemed lighter, brighter because he was interested in what she was doing.

"I'm writing a play," she told him, a smile to match his own tugging at the corner of her lips, "it's my job. Hopefully it will be approved and I'll see it on stage." She sounded so hopeful, so excited for what she got paid to do. Some people were lucky enough to land on their feet doing something that they loved to do; Aramis, not so much. But he felt like he'd found it now.

"I wish you luck in it," he told her, genuine and warm, "it looks like you're making good progress. If you need anyone for it, give me a call? I've dabbled a little in acting." Back in college, before he'd enlisted in the army, but the tutor had always said he had a talent. Maybe it'd be useful for her.

"I will, um...?"

"Aramis," of course, she didn't know his name. With only three employees, including the employer, none of them had badges. It had just always seemed like the customers would learn their names given they had a habit of telling each other off, "and you are? We might as well know each other's names." There was no harm in it. At least if she got somewhere with this play she'd know his name when she called him.

"Scarlett." She was nervous again, looking away, as if telling him her name was some kind of forbidden rule she was breaking. Aramis had the urge to reach out and wrap his fingers around her's and reassure her. That was, like the winking, something difficult to refrain from doing.

"Scarlett," the barista repeated, letting the name roll from his tongue. It was a very pleasant name, "a beautiful name for a beautiful woman." She blushed again, and he saw her teeth sink into her lower lip. Opalescent teeth bite into a very plump lower lip. He'd only just met her and he wanted to kiss her. Damn, Athos was going to flay him this time. Scrawling his mobile number onto a piece of paper, Aramis passed it to her and got up, returning the chair to its table. He had to get back to the counter - Porthos was nudging Athos, and he knew he'd have a talking to later. Likely something about how he couldn't flirt with the customers. But how else was he supposed to meet people? "Call me if your play goes into production, yeah?" She nodded to him and went back to her work, but there was still a pink tinge to her cheeks.

"Oh, and Scarlett?" He stopped, calling over his shoulder, "if you want another drink, don't be afraid to come over! The worst any of us would do is tease you." That made her laugh, and her laugh made him feel lighter.

Athos really was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still all 7thChevronLocked's fault.

**Author's Note:**

> This is all 7thChevronLocked's fault. Blame her.  
> I also know nothing of making coffee this is all made up.


End file.
